Changes 1: Time May Change Me
by Side Quest Publications
Summary: The Legion of Doom recruits Leonard Snart by changing his history to ensure that he is motivated to work for them. Those changes force him to become everything he hated in his father and worse. Will the darkness within be enough accomplish his goals and fix the Legion's manipulation of his timeline, or is the damage permanent? Alternate Timeline to What Could Have Been and canon.
1. Butterfly Effect

**In which I present yet another theory on how the Legion of Doom recruited Leonard Snart.  
However, unlike my Legion of Doom fic, which depended almost entirely on Len's ability to remember other timelines, this one is specifically about some of the changes the Legion might have made in his life along the way.**

 **Please note: due to my work schedule, I** ** _have not_** ** _seen_ the most recent season of any of the Arrowverse shows at the time of this posting. While I have seen bits and pieces of certain episodes-Fellowship of the Spear, for instance-I have not seen Doomworld. And while I have been recording everything on my DVR, I'm thinking I might be better off waiting until it's all on Netflix and starting from square one... yes, I am ****_that_** **far behind.  
That being the case, some of the changes suggested throughout this fic might already be addressed within canon, or might blatantly contradict canonical events. Or it might never come up. In which case this fic is either A) completely moot, or B) a way to tie the various timelines of my own fics in with canon via assorted random changes that happen along the way. I choose option "B." ;) Case in point, ****_this_** **particular change as engineered by the Legion addresses my (and other fans') theory on when the Legion really did recruit Len (as opposed to Rip's so-vague "before we recruited him"), as well as a few complaints regarding Len's character development that I mentioned on Tumblr:  
pioneersshatteredwaters  
.tumblr  
.com  
** **/post/158782568101/legends-of-tomorrow-spoiler-alert  
(Good grief. I hate the way I can't include even a non-clickable web address on here without breaking everything up.)  
**

 **Ben Santini and the "cougar" (Amber, mentioned in other fics) copyright me.  
All others copyright DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

 _Vanishing Point, Oculus Viewing Chamber_

Damien Darkh pulled his hand away from the small pool of light. The images filling his mind, mere glimpses of other times, vanished; only their memory remained.

"I must say, Mr. Thawne, this time-travel ability of yours is impressive," Damien said. "And this... what did you call it? The Oculus? In all my years—and I assure you, I've had _many_ of them—I've never seen anything quite like it."

"Just imagine if you'd seen the Oculus _before_ Hunter's crew tried to destroy it," Eobard Thawne replied. "It seems to be healing itself, but that little window is nothing compared to what we could have done." He smiled. "I take it you're in?"

Damien shook his head. "Rather hard to answer that when you've yet to tell me what I'd be agreeing to."

"I told you," Eobard protested. "We'd be changing our histories... our _destinies_."

"You did say that much," Damien agreed, "but you never explained _how_. I imagine you have more planned than simply altering the past, otherwise you'd have little use for me."

Eobard shrugged. "True."

Damien eyed him for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine. Keep your secrets for now. But if I am joining you, perhaps you could do me a small favor?"

"What sort of favor?"

"That 'little window' of yours didn't show me more than a glimpse of what we could accomplish," Damien said, "but I _did_ see someone I would like to recruit."

"I already have some other recruits in mind," Eobard said. "But I'm open to suggestions."

"Of course," Damien replied. "And perhaps you've already set your sights on this one; that would be even better. But I rather suspect he won't buy the 'change your destiny' pitch all that easily."

"So what do you propose?"

"We'll need to prepare him, certainly," Damien said. "Ensure that he is ready and willing to join us. Tie off any, ah, loose ends. Any prior commitments that might make him hesitate. We do this properly, and he might even jump at anything we offer him."

Eobard cocked his head. "What sort of loose ends?" he asked.

"Does your doppelganger cord work on people who are already dead?"

Eobard nodded. "I can't impersonate a corpse if that's what you're after," he admitted. "But if you need to fool someone into thinking the person is alive..."

"That's fine, that's exactly what I need. See, there's a man out there, an associate of my mark. Only..." Damien frowned, and he thought carefully about the images he'd seen. "Well, this associate had a job to do, but he got himself killed before he could do it. Now, what I need is for his employers to know that he'd succeeded, but for the one who'd killed him to believe that he could not."

Eobard's eyebrows rose more and more through the entire explanation. He scratched his head when Damien was finished. "Let me make sure I understand correctly," he said. "This associate is going to be killed, and _then_ you want me to impersonate him and finish his job for him? Have I got that right?"

Damien merely nodded.

"Okay. Yeah, sure, sounds good. So does this mark have a name? The dead associate, I mean."

"His name is Ben Santini," Damien replied. He considered those brief glimpses of time again. "The job was scheduled for the thirty-first of March, in the year two-thousand. He is not seen again until his body is found in the Central City Bay on the third of April."

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

 _Central City, March 30, 2000_

Ben peered at his watch under the starlight, but the hour hand still pointed to eleven. He sighed; being an hour early usually meant extra time to prepare, but Leonard was such a stickler for numbers that even an extra _minute_ could throw off the game.

But Leonard wasn't here. He was still in prison after that last job got screwed up. After he'd walked away.

 _That_ was why Ben had to be here.

He unlocked the safe house and walked in. "Hey, Micky!" he called out. "You in here?"

"Where else would I be?" Mick's grumble came from the dining room.

Ben followed his voice and found him nursing a bottle of beer. It was nearly full, which meant that he'd just started drinking, or that he was sober enough to hide his empties.

Probably the second one.

"Look, I'm glad you agreed to meet with me—"

"I don't remember you giving me a choice!" Mick snapped. "What do you want, Santini?"

Ben shrugged. "I hear there's been a misunderstanding between Leonard and uncle Vincent. He doesn't belong in prison; his old man's the one who shot that guard, you _know_ he is."

" _I_ know that," Mick agreed. "The cops don't. The only thing Lewis has ever been good at is pinning the blame on someone else, but _damn_ if he isn't actually good at it."

"It's the only reason dad and Vincent keep him around," Ben admitted. "But doing it to one of our own... Even dad agrees that he's gone too far this time."

Mick peered up at Ben. "Your old man's going to get Len out?"

But Ben shook his head. "Leonard _walked_ , Mick. He had a job to do, and he turned his back on it. Dad needs to know he won't do it again. I thought maybe if you and Lisa could talk to Leonard—"

"No."

Ben blinked. "No? No, you're not going to talk to him?"

" _I'll_ talk to him if I have to," Mick explained. "Lisa's got nothing to do with any of this. That was always the deal."

Ben rolled his eyes. "Where is Lisa, anyway?"

"Out." Mick shrugged.

"Out _where_?" Ben asked.

"Don't know," Mick replied. "Wouldn't say if I did."

" _Mick_." Ben shook his head again. "You don't get it. Dad's willing to give Leonard another chance, but he and Vincent are _pissed_. I told them I'd make sure he behaves, but we all know that Lisa's the only one who can keep him under control. If you really want to protect her, then you need to tell me where she is before they take care of the problem their own way."

Mick narrowed his eyes. "She's _safe_ ," he said. "If you're really worried about her, then that's all you need to know."

"She's hiding out with that woman, isn't she? Lenny's _girlfriend_." Ben sneered. "Too old for him, don't you think? I always pictured him as liking the younger types... the ones that look like jailbait. I just can't imagine him ever wanting to _be_ jailbait."

Mick shrugged. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Incredible. He got his ribs broke because of that cougar—I kept the gang from breaking his _skull_ over her—and the two of you _still_ haven't learned anything about following orders." Ben sighed. "Fine. You don't want to help your friend? I guess I'll have to convince my dad to go with plan B."

Mick's head snapped up. "What's plan B?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business," Ben snapped. He turned around and walked towards the front door.

Mick surged to his feet. "Damn it, Ben, _what's plan B_? If anything happens to Lisa—"

"Lisa will be safe," Ben said over his shoulder. "That's all you need to know."

" _Ben_!" Mick clamped a hand on Ben's shoulder.

Ben instinctively reached for the gun he kept hidden in his waistband. He winced... bad move, he wanted Mick's _cooperation_ for this job, not his compliance.

But too late. Mick had seen the motion, and both men rushed to grab the gun. Not to use it—Mick had a gun of his own—but each to keep the other from taking it.

"Get off me!"

"Let go!"

"Watch it, you're gonna—"

"Don't—"

 _BLAM!_

* * *

 **Next chapter, the aftermath of Ben's visit, and Thawne steps in to take over.**

 **Re: the Oculus Wellspring:  
** **On the subject of having only seen bits and pieces of Legends, the timing requires Damien Darkh to know certain things about Len that occurred, as given in this very chapter, in 2000. But the version of Darkh that Thawne recruited was from, if I recall, some 40 years prior to his role in Arrow Season 4 (a point I was not aware of when writing the Legion of Doom ficlet). Far too long ago for him to have access to that information in the normal course of events. Given that the options for him acquiring that information are fairly limited and I envision the Legion as keeping their own personal agendas secret from one another, he needed a way to learn those details that didn't depend on simply asking Thawne about that timeframe... or even knowing that there is any reason to ask.  
My solution, then, is of the Deus ex Machina variety: I theorize that the Oculus Wellspring wasn't completely destroyed in the explosion, but is currently of limited functionality. I may use this point in other fics if and when I find it relevant. And in regards to _how_ I might use it... I chose the word "healing" instead of "repairing" quite deliberately.  
**

 **Canon references:  
Ben Santini is the name of one of the comic book characters, and is from Earth 50. From my reading of the wikia, he _appears_ to be one of the good guys, but I needed a name for the character who showed up here, and that's the one I picked.**

 **Timing and linked fics:  
First section takes place shortly after Thawne recruits Darkh.  
Second section takes place during the course of the prequel fic "What Could Have Been," and is also alluded to in chapter 7 of Flash Sideways.  
Ben's comment about Len getting his ribs broken because of "that cougar" is mentioned, from Len's perspective, in chapter 3 of Alternate Universe. Apparently Ben was the gang leader, go figure!  
**


	2. Cover Up

**In which Lisa and Mick figure out what to do about Ben Santini's untimely death.  
**

 **And my OC Amber _finally_ makes an appearance... and all she's doing is painting Lisa's nails.  
Dang it, woman! I'm glad you don't want to turn into a Mary Sue, but you could use a _small_ spell...  
 _No, I can't. This is before the particle accelerator explosion; the Rogues don't know about my magic yet._ _And they can hardly consent to something they don't even know exists..._  
*grumbles about the difference between dubious consent and implied consent*  
 _You're the one who made my magic work that way._  
Grr... Fine...**

 **Ben Santini (now deceased) and Amber copyright me.  
All others copyright DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

"All right, which color do we do next?" the woman asked. She picked up another jar of nail polish and gave Lisa's nails, all different shades of gold, a wry grin. "This one changes colors in the sun. Silver and gold."

Lisa considered the option. "Gold?" she said, peering at the shade displayed on the bottle. "Or _amber_?"

Amber chuckled. "You caught me," she said. "It has always been my life's ambition to sneak in puns about my name." She frowned. "Strange, that sounds more like someone else we both know."

Lisa grinned. "Eh, might be interesting. Go ahead." She stretched out her one unpainted finger for her friend to begin work.

"You have _got_ to be the only person I know who'd rather have a midnight makeover than a midnight snack," Amber muttered.

"Well maybe if you socialized with more than just your charity cases—" Lisa began.

The phone rang.

"Oh, damn. Just a minute, let me get that." Lisa flipped open the phone in a practiced move with her single unpainted nail, glanced at the Caller ID, and tapped the speaker icon.

"Kinda busy here," she said. She nodded for Amber to begin painting, and held up her other hand to blow on the nails. "What do you need?" she said between nails.

"It's... it's about Ben," Mick replied. His voice shook. "I screwed up, and now he... he's dead."

Lisa snatched her hand away from Amber and grabbed the phone, switching it back to private mode as she did so.

Amber walked out of the room without even needing to be asked.

"What do you mean he's dead?" Lisa snarled, once she was reasonably sure the other woman was out of earshot. Not that that would stop Amber from eavesdropping if she wanted to; "plausible deniability" was not in that woman's vocabulary. "You screwed up _how_?"

"It was an accident, I _swear_! He demanded to know where you were, but I told him I didn't know." Mick's voice kept alternating between a panicked shout and a loud whisper. "I—I thought he was reaching for his gun, so I tried to stop him, and it..." His voice dropped, almost too low for Lisa to hear. "It went off."

Lisa covered her mouth to stifle a sob, heedless of the wet polish. "His family will never believe it was an accident," she said. "They'll _kill_ Lenny when they find out."

It would be so easy, too. Make a deal with some of the inmates, pay off the guards to look the other way... Assuming there wasn't already someone on the Santinis' payroll at Iron Heights, and Lisa wouldn't be surprised if there was. Hell, they might even have his cellmate try it after everyone else was asleep. None of the medical staff would ever agree to such a deal—prison doctors were among the few people Leonard's crew could trust to care more about helping their patients than about who those patients were—but he'd be dead long before they knew anything was wrong.

"Then we gotta make sure they don't find out," Mick said. "Somehow... Lisa, I need your help. Len would know how to fix it, but..."

No need to finish that thought. Leonard wasn't fixing _anything_ while he was stuck in prison. And busting him out would draw too much attention.

"I can't do it alone," Mick added.

Lisa took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "Okay. Okay, we can do this. Just, um... Text me the address. I'll be there as soon as I can."

She hung up and clutched the phone tight, then yelped when it vibrated in her hand. She glanced at the address—one of Ben's safe houses—and closed it again. She gave her painted nails one more look, decided the polish wasn't drying quickly enough, and rushed into the bathroom to scrub it all off.

Amber waited by the garage door. "Anything I can do?" she asked when Lisa walked out.

"Not unless you can bust Lenny out in the next five minutes."

"Hmmm... _maybe_..."

"No." Lisa shook her head. "No way am I letting anyone trace this back to you." She busied herself putting on her motorcycle gear.

"Lisa, you _know_ I can help," Amber protested. "But I can't do anything unless you let me. That isn't just some platitude; I am very serious—"

"So am I!" Lisa snapped. "This isn't about fencing our loot or giving us a place to hide. You're not like us, you're not used to dealing with people as dangerous as the Santinis." She ignored Amber's derisive gesture. "They will _kill_ you if you get in their way. Lenny would never forgive me if I let that happen." And never forgive himself for making that choice necessary.

"Really? _That's_ the argument you're going with? Fine, then. If you really think how Leo feels is more important than life itself, then answer me this: how would he feel if _you_ were killed because I _didn't_ help?"

Lisa swallowed. He wouldn't forgive Amber for it, either, but that answer wouldn't get the results Lisa wanted. "The answer is still _no_ ," she repeated. "I'll be back in a few hours." She started up her bike and sped off, cutting off any further argument.

It felt weird, sometimes, to order around a woman easily old enough to be her mother... a woman who had played that role many times while the siblings grew up. A woman who could easily go behind her back and try to deal with the Santinis without Lisa's help. But Amber was smart enough to stay behind, to keep herself out of the siblings' plans when they had no way to back her up.

And the truth was, it didn't matter whether Amber could survive against the Santinis or not; she couldn't protect the siblings from their father, so she couldn't protect them from anyone else. But even without that protection, the woman was solid proof that they didn't need to be criminals to be worthy of her love. Simply by being there, by being someone Leonard wanted so much to protect from their world, she'd become a lifeline when the siblings needed one the most.

And Lisa couldn't bear the thought that anything could take that away from them.

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

Mick was pacing in front of the safe house when Lisa pulled up.

"Okay, so what have we got?" Lisa asked. "Where is he?"

"Dining room," Mick replied. He kept an eye out for intruders while Lisa removed her gear, then followed her inside. "At least there's no carpeting in that part of the house; cleanup should be easy, right? I kinda thought burning the place down might be better, but if they knew he was meeting with me..." He shrugged.

"Found dead in a fire after meeting with an arsonist?" Lisa scoffed. "Yeah, _that_ won't be suspicious." She glanced at the gun lying next to Ben's corpse. "Still... Have you wiped for prints yet?"

Mick shook his head. "Big house. Big job. I know I _should've_ started, but—"

"Not the house," Lisa amended. "A lot of his crew uses this place. If we clean it too well, that could be as bad as burning it down."

"Whatcha thinking?"

"I'm thinking that, no matter what we do, someone might find his body before we can get Lenny and find someplace for all of us to lay low." Lisa shivered. "But if we could make it harder for anyone to recognize him..."

Mick cocked his head for a moment, then nodded and picked up the gun. He unloaded the clip into Ben's head, and when the gun was empty, he searched the dead man's pockets for more bullets.

"Good?" Mick asked he finished after turning the dead man's skull into Swiss cheese.

"It'll have to do," Lisa said. She took the gun and wiped it down, then forced Ben's fingers around it before shoving it into his waistband. "You've got a tarp in your truck, right? We should see if we can get him into his car." She dug through Ben's pockets until she found his keys.

"What are we gonna do with him?"

"We are going to stuff him in his own trunk," Lisa replied, "and drive his car into the bay."

* * *

 **Next chapter, Thawne shows up.  
He was supposed to show up in this one, but, eh... story length. How odd that I can write one story where eight pages per chapter seems about normal, and write another (in the same storyverse, at that!) where five pages looks like I'm pushing things. I think the amount of activity per section has something to do with it-you'll note that this and the previous chapter are both two scenes apiece-but it's still weird.  
**

 **"And Lisa couldn't bear the thought that anything could take that away from them"**  
 **Darn it, Lise, you had to say it like that. Now I _have_ to remove Amber from the picture. And I already know how I'm going to do it, too... If I do it right, I might even manage another comic canon reference out of i** t.

 **Re: Amber's charity cases  
From a purely writing/publishing standpoint, Amber first showed up (though not by name) in chapter 3 of Alternate Universe... as a thrift store owner who took a liking to an eight-year-old Len and helped him get rid of some loot that was much too distinctive for his father to fence.  
She's been helping the siblings ever since, whenever they have something they need to get rid of in a hurry. She usually does it by way of turning in property that has a reward for the "safe recovery," and in order to keep from getting her into trouble, Len and Lisa agreed that she should keep donating the reward money to charity.  
Here, Lisa is including herself and Len among those "charity cases."**

 **Timing and linked fics:  
Still takes place during the course of the prequel fic "What Could Have Been."**


	3. Plan B

**In which Eobard Thawne spies on Lisa and Mick's attempt to cover up Ben's death, and he makes plans of his own.  
**

 **Ben Santini (now deceased) and Christopher (mentioned) copyright me.  
** **All others copyright DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

 _Central_ _City Bay, March 31, 2000, 1 a.m._

Eobard paced along the coastline, trusting to his speed to keep him hidden. Not that there was anyone out at this hour to hide _from_. But he had no idea how long he needed to remain hidden; the Oculus in its damaged state rarely gave precise details, and the timeframe Damien had reported was wide open.

He wouldn't put it past the other man to have omitted those very details. Eobard wasn't exactly forthcoming about his own plans, anyway.

 _I should've just grabbed this Santini while he was still alive._

No. If he'd tried that he risked grabbing the man too early, before Ben took the job. There might be no memory worth stealing. Eobard would just have to be patient... and speedsters were notoriously short on patience.

The telltale rumble of an engine proved that his wait was nearly over. Two vehicles crept towards the bay.

The two were a study in contrast. The truck in front was a plain vehicle, one even Eobard would be hard-pressed to remember. It could easily belong to any number of middle-class factory workers, stopping for a quick breath of fresh air on the way home after a late shift. It was barely worth his notice.

The car behind it, on the other hand, was clearly expensive; that much was obvious from the sleek lines and quiet purr Eobard could detect in the darkness. And, of course, from the shape of some unusual customizations that he was fairly certain were not road-legal. The car could easily belong to any rich kid out looking for a good time. Also not worth his notice.

What was worth his notice was the fact that they were clearly _together_.

So Eobard watched and waited. And in moments, his patience was rewarded.

As the two approached the bay, the truck veered off a little, making room for the car. The car pulled up to the edge of the jetty and stopped.

Lisa Snart stepped out of the car. And the truck's driver was none other than Mick Rory.

Eobard frowned. What was Captain Cold planning now? For if these two were involved, even this early in the timeline, even before they gained their super guns and their code names, Leonard Snart _had_ to be behind it.

The speedster was seriously considering asking Leonard to join their group—he'd rather kill the thief, but he had to admit that the mission could use his skill first—but wouldn't it be something to ruin his life? _Before_ he became the dangerous rogue Eobard knew him to be? Perhaps that was the "preparation" Damien had in mind.

He grinned; he wasn't entirely sure _why_ he hated the thief—as a time remnant, he had a psychic connection with his copies and the original, but new memories sometimes lacked in specifics—but he must've had a good reason. Given the way history painted Captain Cold's rather bizarre enmity with the Flash, it was only to be expected that the thief had interfered in some of the Reverse Flash's plans. Deliberately or not didn't matter; that was really all the reason Eobard needed.

He slipped closer as Mick approached the car.

" _Gloves_ , Mick!" Lisa snapped.

Mick shrugged, went back to the truck, and returned wearing a bulky pair of work gloves. He bent down to poke around under the car's steering column while Lisa unlocked the trunk with her own gloved hands.

Now, why would Mick need to hotwire the car when Lisa had the keys right there?

Eobard got his answer seconds later. Lisa tossed the keys into the trunk and slammed it shut before Mick got the car running again.

"Think this'll work?" Mick called over the sound of the engine.

"It'll have to," Lisa replied.

Mick did... _something_ to the wiring, then the engine revved and the car started moving. Mick jumped out of the way before the car surged forward and fairly leaped into the water.

Eobard might have been impressed at this seemingly impossible feat of wiring, but he never saw it. He'd cleaned the trunk of corpse and keys the instant before Lisa could lock them in, and zipped over to the other side of the bay to examine his prize.

" _God!_ " he snarled. The corpse's head was so full of bullet holes that he only recognized it _as_ a head by virtue of the fact that it attached to the shoulders. Eobard didn't mind being brutal with his victims once in a while, when he could bear to slow down enough to do so, but the Rogues weren't known for this kind of overkill. Not to mention the damage to the man's brain; dead was dead, as far as physical impersonation went, but those bullets could have destroyed some valuable memories.

He shook his head, dug out the doppelganger cord, and plugged in.

Copying a dead man was fast work, even for the speedster—there was no resistance, physical or otherwise—and in the span of less than two seconds, a new Ben Santini stood over the corpse of the old. Eobard, in Ben's shape, dug through the corpse's clothing for any other tools he'd need to complete the disguise. He gave the gun a disgusted look, but he shoved it into his own waistband; it would be suspicious for Ben to walk around without a weapon, and with any luck, Eobard could complete the job before anyone realized that it was completely empty.

Finally, disguise fully in place, he picked up the corpse and sped across the water to drop it near where the car had gone down.

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

 _April 1, 2000_

Eobard waited, as yet unwilling to risk that Mick or Lisa would discover him before he made his move. And while he waited, he continued to examine the memories that were still intact.

Leonard Snart was in prison for a crime his father had committed.

The Santinis were furious with him for backing out on a job. They wanted him punished. But they also wanted him to remain useful.

And Ben... Ben's job was to get Lisa on board, to use her to persuade Leonard to work for the Santinis again.

Eobard sensed a trace of sympathy in the dead man's memories, but he couldn't tell how far that sympathy went; the gunshots had simply done too much damage.

So. Either Ben was ordered to bring Lisa in to _force_ Leonard to work for him, or he'd meant to ask her to convince her brother as only she could. Either way, Lisa was part of the job. And since Eobard couldn't tell what that "job" was... well, the speedster and the Santinis both wanted Leonard punished, so why not?

He began examining the memories again, looking for anything that could suggest his next course of action.

Ben's "Plan B," as it turned out, involved a man named Christopher. _Him_ Eobard remembered; he'd been working as a security guard to protect the university where Harrison and Tess worked before he'd been shot—and presumably killed—during the Santinis' raid on the place. The same raid, and the same supposed murder, that Leonard was in Iron Heights for.

He was also Leonard's ex-boyfriend, if Ben's memories were correct. And it had been Christopher's betrayal that had allowed the Santinis to force a much younger Leonard into doing their dirty work.

Eobard sneered. He didn't want to _help_ Leonard, but he needed the thief alive for now. It would do no good for the Santinis to get their revenge before the speedster could fulfill his own plans.

Armed with Ben's damaged memories, Eobard made a quick trip to Christopher's home in Coast City to plant Ben's gun and car keys.

 _How appropriate_ , he thought, _that today I should make fools of them all._

He left the apartment without anyone knowing he'd been there, and found Lisa's hideout only a few blocks away.

* * *

 **Next chapter, we pay Len a visit.**

 **Timing and linked fics:  
This chapter, courtesy of Thawne's interference, is an alternate timeline to the events of the prequel fic "What Could Have Been." Christopher was mentioned (though not by name) in the very first chapter of that fic, and the events Eobard retrieves from Ben's stolen memories take place later on.  
**


	4. Temporal Illness

**In which Leonard Snart, courtesy of the changes forced onto his personal timeline, experiences a severe case of temporal illness and nobody knows why he's sick.**

 **All characters seen or mentioned copyright** **DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

 _Iron_ _Heights_ _Penitentiary, April 1, 2000_

"Come on, you fumbled _that_?" Henry shook his head and snatched the ball before Leonard could make a dive for it. He grinned at the young thief. "As old as I am, and you can't even keep up with me? I should start calling you grandpa."

Leonard leaned down to brace his hands against his legs. "You really... need... to work on... your trash talk," he said between gasps. He returned the grin. "Or better yet... _don't_. You're embarrassing... yourself."

Henry snickered.

Leonard rested for a few seconds longer. _Damn_ , he was out of shape. He should be able to hold up a lot easier than this. The weather was decent for that time of year, chill enough for most of the inmates to require jackets in the courtyard, but it was comfortable enough. But Leonard had been overheated since he'd woken, enough to refuse the jacket, and now, after their game had barely started, he was already pouring sweat.

"You okay?" Henry murmured. He approached to take a closer look. "You know, you really ought to tell the guards if you're not feeling well."

Leonard shook his head. "I'm fine," he mumbled.

" _Leo_..." Henry began.

"Maybe you should listen to him, _Leo_ ," one of the other inmates said.

A second one snickered. "Yeah. Nobody knows about being healthy better than a killer, right? I'm sure the widow-maker will take _real_ good care of you."

Leonard rolled his eyes and ignored the urge to explain the difference between a widow and a widower. Even if he was foolish enough to engage with those idiots, the way Henry stiffened up told him the correction—or indeed, any effort to intervene on _that_ subject—would be entirely unwelcome.

He placed one hand on Henry's shoulder and let the older man take some of his weight. "Ignore them," he muttered once he had Henry's attention back. "You know the saying about arguing with idiots. Drag you down to their level..."

"And beat me with experience," Henry finished. He managed half a smile. "It's to be expected; today's their day, after all."

"Right," Leonard agreed. "Though they're not the only ones, are they?"

Henry blinked at him in confusion. "What do you— _hey!_ "

Leonard slapped the ball out of Henry's hands, startling a yelp out of the older man, and dribbled it down the court.

Five more steps, and he'd be in reach of the basket. Four. Three...

His vision began to turn grey.

The ball rolled away. Forgotten. Unimportant.

God, he was so tired.

He reached for the pole. Missed.

Every one of his senses was assaulted at once, all with memories of...

"Lisa," he mumbled.

The ground rushed towards Leonard. He barely heard Henry shouting over him.

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

"Guard!" Henry called. " _Guard!_ " He leaned in close to inspect Leonard's shaking body.

"What do you want, Allen?" one of the guards snapped from the other side of the fence.

"This man is barely breathing," Henry replied. "He needs medical attention and an AED. Now!"

The guard scoffed. "Seriously? You're going to play that game today? What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

Henry stood up and whirled to glare at the guard. "The kind that would risk letting someone on your watch die because he _might_ be faking? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Except he knew this was the wrong place for that question. Most of the guards had made it clear they didn't care what happened to the inmates... dangerous criminals all of them, or so they believed, and one dead just meant one the guards didn't need to watch.

Most of the guards... but not all. And the medical staff generally took their work seriously; you'd be hard-pressed to accept a position caring for a _murderer's_ well-being if you didn't think the job mattered.

The guard frowned at Leonard, but he spoke into his lapel microphone. "Need a medic down to the courtyard," he said. "One of the prisoners has collapsed. Might be unconscious."

"Thank you," Henry muttered. He turned back to Leonard to assess what he could of the young thief's condition.

Leonard hadn't been injured that Henry could tell. He'd been playing basketball fairly well... _moderately_ well. Looked worn out, but no sign of anything broken. And while Henry wouldn't put it past the young thief to try to hide it if he'd been hurt—to hide anything that might mark him as an easy victim for the other inmates—he was certain nothing had happened recently to _cause_ any injuries.

It should be safe enough to move him.

But Leonard was, as Henry had told the guard, barely breathing. He didn't look bad enough to need CPR any time soon, but the AED would be a necessary precaution in any case. And that fever... How could Leonard have gotten so sick without anyone noticing?

"It's going to be okay, son," Henry murmured. "Don't worry. I'm just going to move you a bit... make it easier for you to breathe. All right?"

No response.

"Sorry," Henry said. "I know you don't like being touched, and this is probably going to feel strange, especially if you've never done it before..." He rearranged Leonard's body, pushing a leg this way, pulling an arm that way, and finally rolling him over so the young thief was face-down, his head resting on his arms, in the more stable Recovery Position.

One of the prison's doctors arrived with an AED two minutes later. "What's happened?" she asked Henry.

"I don't know," Henry admitted. "A little bit ago we were playing basketball. He seemed like he was tired, but otherwise fine. And then..." He shrugged. "He's got a fever. From the symptoms my first instinct would be heat stroke. I know it isn't _that_ hot out—" In fact, Henry was starting to shiver in his jacket "—but if he's sensitive to the heat it might be enough to cause problems."

"I think he is," the doctor said. "When he's on the kitchen rotation he always spends a long time in the freezer. Even in the middle of winter. I swear I've caught him meditating in there." She glanced over Henry's work. "Good job with the Recovery Position. No injuries?"

"None that I could find. But I'm worried about his breathing..."

"You're a doctor, right?" She glanced towards the fence, and waved for the guard to let in two nurses who were pushing a gurney in front of them. "You're not his cell mate. Is he a friend of yours?"

Henry shrugged. Anywhere else, he'd be glad to answer that question with a whole-hearted "yes." But in here, admitting to such a thing could get _both_ of them killed. "He's kept me out of trouble," he said. He rolled his eyes at the inanity of that remark and gave a pointed look at the other inmates, off where the guards were herding them. " _More_ trouble," he amended.

The doctor nodded. "Best you get back with the others before one of the guards has a conniption."

"Right."

Henry allowed himself to be herded in with the other inmates, leaving plenty of room for the doctor and the nurses to wheel Leonard into the building on the gurney.

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

 _Vanishing Point, Oculus Viewing Chamber_

"Well done!" Damien said. "That was better than anything I could've dreamed of!"

"Thank you, thank you," Eobard replied, bowing. "Please, hold the applause."

"More's the pity," Damien said. "You certainly deserve it."

"I trust that was what you had in mind?" the speedster asked.

Damien nodded. "It's a start. Although, if you don't mind my asking... If you were going to remove her from the timeline, why did you find it necessary to murder her so brutally first?" He held up a hand, warding off the speedster's protest. "Not that I'm complaining, mind. It _was_ a masterful piece of work. I'm simply curious what the purpose was. Or why you waited until _after_ the police discovered what was left of her before you erased her from existence."

"That's very simple," Eobard replied. "I wanted to make absolutely certain that Leonard would remember her. Obviously that's more difficult than it sounds; if she doesn't even exist, then what is there to remember? But I think it'll work."

"Not as difficult as you might think," Damien murmured.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh, I was just thinking that it should be my turn. This was only the first step, after all."

Eobard cocked his head. "What else did you have in mind?"

"Depending on how vividly our friend remembers a sister who doesn't exist," Damien said, "he just might find himself a resident at the nearest mental hospital soon. I'd like to be sure he is cared for... _properly_."

* * *

 **Next chapter, Darkh steps in.**

 **Timing and linked fics:  
Thanks to the Legion's interference, Len's bout of temporal illness occurs a few weeks sooner than it would have done in the prequel fic What Could Have Been. (Oddly enough, that story's version is also a direct result of _Thawne's_ interference. Just at a different point in the speedster's timeline.)  
Other than that change, however, it is still the first time it was "that bad" (as referred to on multiple occasions throughout the Flash Sideways story-verse, initially by Lisa in chapter 6 of the main fic titled... Flash Sideways). Thus Len has absolutely no idea what he's in for.  
**


	5. Insitute

**In which Amber and Mick Rory try to do something about Len's illness.  
**

 **Disclaimer: Len's temporal illness, as a side effect of has ability to vividly remember other timelines and inability (as yet) to process that these _are_ memories of other timelines, is an entirely made up sickness.  
Any resemblance to real-life illnesses, both mental and physical, is entirely coincidental.  
**

 **Bonus points to anyone who recognizes what story Amber's reading (even though Darkh's description of the plot is a little... off.) ;)**

 **Amber (present) and Eislyn (mentioned) copyright me.  
** **All others seen or mentioned copyright** **DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

 _Langford Institute, Starling City, April 27, 2000_

Getting into the institute was, as it turned out, very simple. Ruvé Adams was the latest in a long line of loyal followers who looked very closely after Damien's personal interests, a task she'd been managing since before Lewis Snart's first trip to prison. Even now she continued to forge the necessary paperwork to see to those interests.

Using that access was far less simple. While Ruvé had a say in _where_ Leonard was treated, she had too little control over _how_ he was treated.

"Who is that?" Damien asked. He gestured at the woman inside Leonard's room. "Not his mother, certainly; she was removed from the picture a long time ago. Another relative Lewis forgot to mention?"

The woman in question held the young thief close, something he was known to never allow anyone to do. Even drugged and in a straitjacket, he should have been resisting her touch, but instead he leaned into her embrace like a dog craving his master.

The woman stroked Leonard's head with one hand and turned pages in a book with the other.

Ruvé shook her head. "One of the volunteers," she replied. "She spends time with some of the patients. Reads to them, keeps them calm."

"Isn't that what medication is for? And why is she with _him_?"

Ruvé shrugged. "He gets agitated, too. Violent, sometimes, depending on his hallucinations. The nurses haven't found a drug that does him much good."

"I imagine not," Damien murmured.

"They love having her around, though," Ruvé continued. "They claim the patients do a lot better after only a few minutes with her than with a month's worth of drugs." She scoffed. "They act like she's a damn faith healer. Imagine that, in this day and age. She couldn't possibly know real power. Not at all like yours."

"What's she reading?" Damien asked. "I can't see the title from here."

Ruvé lifted one eyebrow, but she pressed a button. "You could always listen in."

" _Now fly off and amuse yourself,_ " the woman was saying. Her voice echoed oddly over the speaker. " _Don't worry the moonbeams, and don't kill my white rabbits..._ "

Damien had to listen a few minutes longer to figure out what she was reading; it hadn't been published in his time, after all. But when he realized what it was, he nearly laughed out loud. Some children's story about a lost little dog, pining away for its master.

How very appropriate.

The woman read several more pages before Leonard lifted his head from her shoulder. " _Where's Lisa?_ " he asked.

The woman stumbled over a passage about a sea serpent.

" _It's after two, isn't it?_ " Leonard added. " _She's usually here by now._ "

" _I'm sorry, sweetie,_ " the woman replied. " _She... she couldn't visit today._ " She continued to stare down at the book, avoiding the young thief's gaze. " _You know how it is in your line of work._ "

Leonard appeared to consider this, then nodded and laid his head back down on the woman's shoulder.

"Lisa," Ruvé said. "Tess, Eislyn, and of course the faith healer. He's collecting quite a set of ladies. It might be interesting if we could see who he thinks they even are."

Damien snickered.

" _But she's safe?_ " Leonard asked. " _If I'm not out there to protect her..._ "

" _Nobody will hurt your sister ever again._ "

The smirk dropped from Damien's face. "I'm sorry, did she just say _sister_?"

Ruvé shrugged. "She humors the patients," she replied. "Tells them what they want to hear. No doctor worth the name should allow it, but when the case is _that_ hopeless..." She shook her head. "It's a pity, though. I know you had plans for him, but that fever of his caused too much damage. Just give me the order and the taxpayers will have one less drain to worry about."

"Let's not write him off _just_ yet," Damien said.

"You think he can still be useful?"

"I know he can. But he may need a different kind of treatment."

Ruvé cocked her head. "All right," she said. "What did you need?"

"I'll get back to you on that."

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

 _Vanishing Point, Oculus Viewing Chamber_

"Why don't _you_ do it?" Eobard snarled.

"I don't have as much power as I used to," Damien replied. "Ever since I left the League..." He shook his head. "You removed Lisa from the timeline, why can't you do the same with this witch?"

"Can't touch her. I don't know why." Eobard shrugged. "Maybe she _is_ a witch. With a power like yours..."

"Her power is _nothing_ like mine." Damien scoffed. "But it may be enough... I don't want her anywhere _near_ him."

"Fine. I'll come up with something."

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

 _Central City_

Mick groped around for the key to his private safe house. The beer slipped out of his hand and he watched the bottle shatter on the ground.

"Damn it," he muttered. The bottle had been nearly empty, but he mourned the loss of the last couple of mouthfuls.

He needed another beer.

He found the key after another fumble through his pockets, peered blearily at the lock, and finally, after scratching at the knob a few times, managed to get the door open.

He tossed his gun aside, dropped down onto the couch, and took a swig from the bottle he found waiting on the end table for him.

"Good stuff," he said, peering at the label. " _Great_ stuff." Had he ever drunk this brand before? It was expensive, he knew...

He shook his head and knocked back to guzzle half the bottle before sinking into the couch with a groan.

"Rough day?" a woman asked.

"You don't know the half of it," Mick replied.

His eyes snapped open and he stared at the woman standing over him.

" _Shit!_ " He snatched for his gun and fired point blank at the intruder.

Nothing. The gun didn't even make a sound.

The woman shook her head. "Really? Shoot first, ask questions later?" she said. "I thought that was _Lewis'_ gig. Isn't Leo trying to play things differently?"

"Uh..." Mick blinked several times. "How d'you know Len?"

"I met him when he was a child," she replied. "Eight, I think. When that worm he calls a father threatened to lock him out if he didn't get rid of that stupid necklace." She shrugged. "I've been helping him and his sister ever since, though I wish to the gods I could do something about the worm."

 _Sister?_ Mick frowned. Leonard was an only child; everyone in the crew knew that. This madwoman clearly didn't know Leonard as well as she claimed if she believed otherwise.

He shook his head. "I know you, don't I?"

"We've... _met_ ," the woman said. "I'm not sure that really qualifies as 'knowing' me." She cocked her head. "Leo calls me Amber."

"So how'd you get in?"

"Magic," Amber replied without missing a beat. "One would think break-ins would be hard for me, considering, but odd as it seems, they're actually one of the easiest spells I've managed."

Mick waited, but the woman didn't offer any more information.

"Come on, Mick," Amber finally said. "I can volunteer a little bit, but I'm not supposed to be answering your questions before you've asked them. It tends to weird people out when I do that."

"I'm not drunk enough for this," Mick grumbled.

"Case in point."

"Ugh... Okay, fine. What are you doing here? What do you want with me?"

Amber smiled. "Ah, finally! _Good_ questions. Unfortunately not so easily answered. Look, we both know Leo's sick. We both want him better. I even have a pretty good idea _why_ he's sick, but he's not in any fit state to accept my help. And without his consent, I'm quite literally powerless to do anything about it. That's where you come in."

"You think I haven't _tried_ to help him?" Mick growled. "I ain't no doctor, lady. Besides, that place is locked down tight and crawling with cops. I can't even get in to see him." He sighed. "If it was the other way around, Len would have no problem thinking up a way to get me out of there. But I'm not him. I can't _think_ like him. I want him better, but I can't imagine what kind of help you expect to get from me."

"Getting in isn't going to be the problem," Amber said. "No, the problem is, something's happened to Lisa— _what_ happened, I don't know, but it wasn't supposed to happen. And whatever it was, that's what's making Leo sick. I think she can fix what's wrong with him, but I can't find any trace of her."

"Okay," Mick said. "Let's say I understood—or believed—even _half_ of what you just said. Who the fuck is Lisa?"

Amber groaned, slumped down on the couch, and snatched the bottle out of his hand.

"Hey!"

Amber ignored him. She swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimaced, and then finished it off.

When she handed the bottle back to Mick, it was completely full.

Mick took a hesitant taste of the beer and found it to be just as good as before. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

* * *

 **Next chapter, Mick and Amber recruit more help. Namely, John Constantine and Anne Marie.  
**

 **Minor edit: Changed Mick's question of "Who's Lisa" to "Who the fuck is Lisa" to (somewhat) parallel some dialogue in Legion of Doom.**

 **Timing and linked fics:  
Alternate timeline to the events of the prequel fic What Could Have Been. Len's memories are of that timeline (or rather, those timelines) both before and after Thawne murdered Tess Morgan in official canon.  
In fact, I very nearly skipped over this and the next chapter, so close was it to the events of the prequel, because I really didn't want to recreate too much from that fic... until I remembered that Lisa's death and subsequent removal from the timeline _does_ change the events enough to (hopefully) warrant posting this version.  
**


	6. Mick and Magic

**In which Amber is forced to recruit John Constantine, and this timeline's Mick Rory "meets" Lisa for the first time...  
Or so Eobard Thawne's meddling has led him to believe.**

 **Amber copyright me.  
** **All others seen or mentioned copyright** **DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

 _Langford Institute, Midnight_

Mick paced around outside the institute, keeping a close eye out for the guards. When he tired of pacing, he returned to the alley to find Amber lounging where he'd left her.

Then he walked out to begin pacing again.

"What are we doing here?" he asked after he'd made the rounds several more times. "Didn't you say these people were from England? Even with the tickets—that I _paid for_ —" he added with a sneer.

"With whose money?" Amber asked.

Mick ignored the interruption. "Plane ain't going to be that quick. Not to mention jet lag; even if they slept on the flight, it'll be a long while before they're ready to help."

"Before who's ready to help, mate?" a man's voice asked from outside of the alley.

Mick felt like he jumped about a foot in the air before he whirled around to face the speaker. "Will you people stop sneaking up on me like that?" he... yelled. He hadn't shrieked; he had _definitely_ not shrieked. "It isn't natural."

"You've got that right," a young woman replied. "It's downright supernatural." The two newcomers removed their motorcycle helmets to reveal... a couple of teenagers?

Mick turned back around to confront Amber. "That's who we were waiting for, a couple of damn _kids_? I thought you wanted experts!"

"Experts in their line of work tend to wind up dead or evil," Amber admitted. "A problem _you_ should be intimately familiar with. John and Anne-Marie are the best options we have." She stood up to push past the group and peer out at the guards.

Mick wasn't entirely sure she was referring to the pair's skill.

John snorted. "And if it isn't the Eldritch Abomination herself? I'd _wondered_ who could've arranged that trip."

"Call me that again," Amber said, "and I might show you what an Eldritch Abomination really looks like."

John's smile wavered. "You wouldn't," he said. "You _couldn't_ , not if I didn't let you. Your power—"

"Try me," Amber replied.

"All right. You're an eldritch—"

"What's an eldri... eld... elder... whatever you said?" Mick asked.

John shrugged. "A thing so far outside human imagining," he said, "that the mere sight of it would drive you mad." He nodded towards the delivery door, the nearest entrance to the institute. "Good job we're breaking into the loony bin, eh?"

Mick's eyes flashed. He snatched John up by the jacket and slammed the younger man into the wall of the alley. "My partner's in there, you ass!" he snarled.

"Get off me!" John shot back. Before Mick could say another word, the mage's hands burst into flame.

Mick stepped back and stared.

"Are we doing this?" Amber asked. "Or were you two going to keep flirting until the guards find us?"

John looked past Mick's shoulder to glower at her. "I ain't _flirting_ ," he protested.

Anne-Marie snickered. "It looks like the arsonist disagrees," she replied.

John sighed. He quickly shook out the flames and patted Mick on the shoulder as he walked by. "Sorry, mate. You're not my type."

Mick shook himself. "How did you do that?" he whispered.

"Magic," John replied as he moved over to join Amber at the delivery door.

A few seconds later, Mick and Anne-Marie joined them.

Mick kept a nervous eye out for the guards, but none of them seemed to be interested in this side of the building. "So how are we getting in?" he asked. He winced. "Next one to say 'magic' gets a bullet in the brain."

"That's so cute that he thinks he's scaring us," John muttered.

Amber smirked. "The security system is meant to keep the patients from getting out. Same with the guards. I am merely persuading them that there's nothing wrong with letting us _in_."

"But how are you..." Mick groaned. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

Amber shrugged and opened the door.

Mick glanced towards the nearest guard again, but there was still no sign that anybody noticed them. He shook his head and followed the three inside.

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

Once the crew was safe in Leonard's room, Mick abandoned all pretense at stealth and strode over to look in on his partner while the other three prepared their spell. He didn't care what they were doing; they could strip and dance naked and it wouldn't matter.

All that mattered now was helping Leonard.

"We'll get you out of here," the arsonist murmured. "We'll get you better, somehow."

Leonard's eyes were wide open despite the hour, but he showed no sign that he'd heard. Only the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional blink of his eyes proved he lived.

 _Drugged?_ Mick wondered. But with what? The doctor said he resisted most of their drugs. It had to be something seriously powerful, then... and that meant it was seriously dangerous.

"What have they done to you?"

"—normal exorcism?" John was asking. He put away the bag of salt. "You _were_ a little vague on that point."

"If I thought a ghost was visiting him," Amber replied, "I wouldn't be half so worried. No. He thinks his sister comes to see him—he keeps asking me about her—but there's never been anybody but me."

Mick rolled his eyes.

John cocked an eyebrow. "And now he's in the loony bin. What a shocking development."

"You of all people should know better than that," Amber snapped. "The institute's got their cause and effect mixed up. Lisa is _supposed_ to be here, but she isn't. That's why he's sick... _part_ of why he's sick. I need to know what happened to her, and I need her to help me fix him."

Mick frowned. He didn't understand all this talk about magic, or why Amber kept insisting Leonard had a sister, but he couldn't doubt the woman's confidence. "Hang on," he said. "If what you say is true... if you're so sure that's why he's sick, and you can do this... this magic..." He glanced at John and Anne-Marie. "What do you need them for?"

"I need Leo's permission to use my power on him," Amber replied. "It's why I don't hunt demons like they do. Lisa _could_ give me what I need, but I can't ask her if I can't find her, which requires using my power, and... well..." She gave a helpless shrug.

"If you're as close as you say you are, don't you think he'd be okay with this?" Mick shrugged. "I mean, if you're doing it to help him and his 'sister...''

"Implied consent doesn't do it for me, Mick," Amber explained. Her voice cracked as she spoke. "I could recite every spell that ever existed, but if he doesn't actually _agree_ to it, I'd only be wasting my breath. It wouldn't have any effect on him."

 _Like some of the drugs?_ Mick wondered.

She shuddered. "Or worse. There's already a nasty piece of work watching him. If I attract _that_ one's attention, it'll be all over before we've fixed anything."

"That doesn't tell me what these kids are doing here."

"We're here to provide one hell of a loophole," Anne-Marie replied. "Our magic doesn't work the same as your friend's. She can't cast the spell without consent, but she _can_ power it up and let us cast it in her place."

"If you say so," Mick grumbled.

"We do," John said. "So which spell do you prefer?"

Amber pulled a book out of her bag and handed it to him. "You'll have to decide which one works best for you, since you'll be casting it."

Mick peered at the book. "Isn't that a kid's book?"

"It's in disguise," John muttered. He flipped through the pages. "Sanskrit?"

"You prefer Latin?" Amber said.

"Occasionally."

Amber shrugged. The text shimmered and changed.

Anne-Marie and John huddled over the book as they tried to find a suitable spell.

John whistled. "No wonder you prefer Sanskrit," he muttered. "Some of these are so old they'd never work in a modern translation."

"What about that one?" Anne-Marie said.

Mick looked at the page she was pointing at, but all he could make out was the word "Oculus."

"Inner sight?" John shrugged. He glanced up at Amber. "Find the girl, and decide on a new spell from there?"

Amber nodded. "That'll work."

"All right." John stared at the page about a minute longer before closing the book and pulling some chalk out of his bag. "You'll want to set yourself here," he said, scribbling on the floor between the circle of salt and Leonard's bed. "Anne-Marie, you're better than me with visions, why don't you stand over there?"

Amber and Anne-Marie walked around the circle of salt to stand where John directed them.

"Micky!" John said. "You'll have to play the role of protector for this one... I need you over here." He scribbled another mark a little further away from the bed. " _Don't_ cross into the circle or break it for any reason."

"What do I do as a protector?" Mick asked.

"Hopefully a whole lot of nothing," John admitted. "But an incomplete spell is dangerous like you wouldn't believe; if your friend's 'nasty piece of work' interrupts us, you'd be our first line of defense. You good with that?"

Mick glanced at Amber, but she refused to meet his eye. "Shouldn't I be guarding the door, then?" he asked.

"That ain't the kind of interruption I'm worried about, mate," John said.

Mick's gaze traveled back to his partner lying senseless on the bed. He looked back at John. "I'm good with that," he replied, and he strode over to the mark John indicated.

John sat down within another scribbled mark, opened up the book, and began reading aloud.

Mick tried to listen, but he couldn't understand a word the man said, and he quickly lost interest. His eyes were drawn to the circle. _Something_ was forming in there, something that made the hairs all over his body stand on end.

The image didn't take long to appear. Within the circle was a woman, and a strange sight she was. Mick twisted his head one way, then another, trying to see her from a different angle, while taking care not to leave his assigned spot. But no matter how he looked at her, it always seemed there was a light behind her, making it hard to see what she looked like.

From what he could see, she appeared to be nearly as white as clean smoke, with hair that resembled spun gold floating above her head. Her feet floated about an inch off the floor.

"Beautiful," Mick whispered.

"Imagine what she looked like when she was alive," Amber replied.

Mick squinted into the light. For a moment, he saw a black-haired imp, eyes sparkling as she laughed at one of his and Leonard's recent games. Then the image was gone, replaced with the pale, frightened child with a hole through her chest.

Amber was right; alive, this woman would be _far_ more beautiful than the bloodless thing before him.

"Wh... what's happened?" the spirit asked. "I feel strange."

"I'm sorry, Lisa," Amber said. "Someone murdered you a few weeks ago. I've been trying to find out what happened, but as far as I can tell you don't even seem to exist."

"It was... it was Ben," Lisa said. She frowned. "No. No, it couldn't have been Ben; Mick _killed_ him before that. By accident; we dropped his body in the bay to keep the Santinis from finding out and punishing Lenny for it. But I swear it _looked_ like him..." She shook her head. "I don't understand..."

"I remember doing that," Mick said. "But... she was there?"

Lisa turned to face him. "You don't remember? You called me to—"

"It's complicated," Amber said. "Whatever happened to you seems to have affected everyone you know. We're still trying to understand why."

"Take it easy," Anne-Marie murmured. "Don't try to force it." She gave a sad smile. "Easier said than done, I know, but the information _will_ come if you just let it."

Lisa glanced at the other woman. "Who...?"

"She's a friend," Amber explained. "Lisa, I don't know how to fix your death. Not yet. But we need your help." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We think whoever killed you did it to hurt your brother."

Lisa looked around, and her gaze finally settled on the bed. " _Lenny?_ Oh god, Lenny..." She moved closer to the bed and tried to reach out to Leonard, but the circle of salt stopped her. "What's happened to him?"

"He's sick," Amber replied. "Very sick. Has been since the day you died. And right now you're the only one who can tell us why."

Lisa shook her head again. "But I don't _know_ why," she admitted.

"Anything you can tell us," John said gently. "Even if you don't think it means anything. I hate to say it, but even the tiniest clue will be more than we've got."

"All I can think is something called... Jurgen?" Lisa said. "I... I don't even know what that means..."

John looked at the rest of the crew. "Mean anything to you?"

Mick and Anne-Marie shook their heads.

" _Sounds_ familiar," Amber said. "I've heard of a place called Jurgen's Ridge. But the ridge exists completely outside of the time stream. The only kind of people who could even reach it are..." Her eyes widened. "Oh, _shit_."

Before Mick could ask her to explain, the door blew open and gust of wind blew into the room, knocking the entire crew to the floor.

* * *

 **Next chapter, I need to learn to write better fight scenes...**

 **I cheated. ;) I used "the dress" as inspiration to explain away the difference between comic-version Lisa with gold hair and CW version with black hair (long story short, if you haven't looked up the science behind the dress, the optical illusion has something to do with the lighting).  
**

 **Timing and linked fics:  
** **Alternate timeline to the events of the prequel fic What Could Have Been. A version of this scene will appear in that fic, but how much will be recreated and/or modified to suit the character-in particular, how much dialogue explaining the spellwork etc-depends on whether or not I have Lisa accompanying Amber in that version of events. Mick will (most likely) not be present in that chapter.  
**


	7. Lifeline

**In which the foursome finds the spell interrupted, and Darkh and Thawne continue tormenting Len.**

 **Amber copyright me.  
** **All others seen or mentioned copyright** **DC, CW, etc.**

* * *

"No!" John yelled. He grabbed for the salt packet inside his bag. "We lose the circle, we lose the girl! _Hurry_!" The three mages worked quickly to fix the circle. But with every gap they filled in, some... _thing_ zipped around them, scattering the salt as it went.

Lisa began to fade.

 _First line of defense_... Mick climbed to his feet to try to confront the thing.

He barely made it three steps before something grabbed hold of him. He caught a glimpse of a figure all in yellow, with burning red eyes, before he crashed into the far wall.

He pushed himself to his knees, but the blow left him too dizzy to stand.

"It's him!" Lisa cried. "That's the thing that killed me!"

"We've got to cancel the spell!" John ordered. He had to yell to be heard over the crackle of lightning.

"I can't just leave her!" Amber replied.

"We'll find her again," John promised. "We know where to look. But we can't allow that thing to—argh!"

"John!" Anne-Marie screamed.

Mick stared at the sight before him. The thing had stopped directly behind John, revealing itself to be a man in a costume, and had thrust its arm straight through the mage's back!

John stared at the hand that stuck out from his chest. His mouth moved, but only bloody bubbles came out.

Amber whirled and ran straight for Lisa.

The thing snarled and yanked its arm free to race after her.

John collapsed. The salt burned where his blood flowed into it. "The... circle..." he gasped.

Mick grabbed his gun, took aim, and fired.

The thing dodged away from the bullets easily. It moved too quickly for them to fight, but Mick's attack gave Amber the moment she needed to reach for Lisa's outstretched hand...

There was a flash of light, and then Amber and Lisa were gone.

Another flash of yellow and red, and Mick, Anne-Marie, and John found themselves miles from the nearest town.

"Stay out of my way!" the thing snarled before it, too, vanished.

Mick waited a few minutes to be sure it was gone before he climbed, shaking, to his feet.

"What was that thing?" Anne-Marie asked.

"If I had to guess," Mick said, "I'd say it was Amber's nasty piece of work."

"No," John said with a groan, startling a yelp from Mick. "Something else." He pushed himself to his knees.

Mick helped him to his feet and stared at the bloody hole in the mage's coat.

The hole in his chest was gone.

"God, do you do _anything_ naturally?" Mick grumbled.

John shook his head. "That thing couldn't have snuck past my wards if it had any real power. No, the nasty piece of work was protecting it, whatever it was."

"But now we have an idea what we're up against," Mick said. "We can go back for Len—"

"The three of us combined ain't strong enough for another spell like that," John replied, "not until I'm done healing. And I don't think even Amber could heal me quicker than I could do..." His mouth twisted. " _Naturally_."

"Where is she?" Mick whispered. "And Lisa?"

"If I had to guess," John said, "I'd say Jurgen's Ridge."

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

 _Langford Institute,_ _April 30, 2000_

"Ms. Adams tells me you've decided to accept my offer," the doctor said.

Damien nodded. "I had hoped to keep him closer to home, but I understand it is much harder to care for him properly over such distances. And asking you to keep making the trip is hardly fair to you or your patients."

"Particularly given the recent developments?" the doctor said.

"Certainly," Damien agreed. "His dedication to his other fantasies is troubling enough, though I can't begrudge him those if they keep him calm. But this 'demon' he's dreamed up bears further investigation. I trust, once you have regular access, you _will_ be able to take care of him? I'm afraid nobody else has had much luck figuring out what's wrong with him."

"I will do all that I can to find the answers you need," the doctor promised.

"Please do. I cannot tell you how important it is that he be restored to prime condition."

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

 _Vanishing Point, Oculus Viewing Chamber_

"This has been fun," Eobard said.

"So it would seem," Damien replied. "Any more sign of the witch?"

"She won't be bothering us again." Eobard zipped back out and immediately returned with a bottle and a couple of glasses. "My turn next?"

"Good year," Damien murmured with a glance at the bottle. "I'm not so sure about that. All of our previous moves took effect almost immediately; this one will naturally take longer to produce results. I'd like to wait and see those results before we do any more to him."

Eobard frowned. "Speedsters aren't very good at waiting."

"My apologies," Damien said. "I suppose you could always jump ahead to the end game if you liked. Although, didn't you say you had another recruit in mind?"

Eobard nodded. "He won't be nearly as fun, though."

"Even so... I would like to see what we have to work with before we continue the game."

Eobard glowered.

"If you don't mind?" Damien added. "And perhaps this would be even more fun once we have a new player to join in."

"Ugh... _fine_."

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: CHANGES—

 _Vanishing Point, Council Chamber_

Damien leaned out over the railing and watched Malcolm Merlyn beat swords against a practice dummy.

"You're doing better!" Damien called. Not that it would have taken much to improve over the drunken ex-assassin they'd recruited.

Malcolm paused and stepped away from the dummy. "It helps when your captor's threatened to kill you if you're not as good as he wants you to be," he called back. "Though I wouldn't mind having a real sparring partner. It might be useful to try my blade against Eobard now and again, but his speed makes him useless for most practice, and as for you..." He shrugged.

"In time," Damien said. "Speaking of time, I have something I need to retrieve. Do you think the great Al-Saher is sober enough to join us?"

Eobard snickered.

"Of course I am!" Malcolm scoffed. "So where do you need to go?" He cast a nervous glance at the speedster. "Or should I say, _when_?"

"When is Christmas, 2002," Damien replied. "And as for where, first I'll need to make a stop with one of my own people, but after that... I don't suppose either of you gentlemen is familiar with Arkham Asylum?"

* * *

 **And with that, this part of the story is officially complete. But there's more to come when I begin uploading Tracing Time, which is an alternate timeline to canon and begins shortly after we first see Len on the CW show.**

 **Unofficially... well, that's up to the readers at this point.  
You could, if you prefer, assume that that this is the first part of a trilogy, and that Legion of Doom picks up roughly where this one leaves off. In that case, Thawne's participation in these games clearly retcons his complaint in Legion about needing to know what sort of timeline change resulted in Len's "treatment" in the asylum. (That version, written long before I'd thought this one up, was based on Thawne's murder of Tess Morgan and the real Harrison Wells and refers solely to the events of What Could Have Been.)  
Or you could assume that Legion of Doom takes place in a different, albeit similar, continuity, and that the only true sequel to this one is Tracing Time.  
Either way, Len's going to have a _hell_ of a lot of timelines to keep straight in his head once I'm done with this set of plot bunnies. (Sorry, Len...) So feel free to move on to Legion of Doom if you haven't read it yet, or keep an eye out for Tracing Time. Or both.**

 **Timing and linked fics:  
** **Alternate timeline to the events of the prequel fic What Could Have Been.  
**


End file.
